


Helloooo, Brig!

by occasional_boy_reporter



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Desk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingerfucking, Humor, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Porn, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Workplace Sex, light exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:50:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4607412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasional_boy_reporter/pseuds/occasional_boy_reporter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knock Out and Breakdown have a tendency to get brig time for putting their sex life before their work. But no worries, it's only a problem if they get caught interfacing on (and under) Knock Out's desk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helloooo, Brig!

   “Oh frag,” Breakdown tries to mutter but only manages something much closer to a whine.

   And of course Knock Out hears it.

   “MmHmmm.” It’s part chuckle, part contented hum coming from the red mech seated on the desktop and doubled over at the waist, his intake…

   _Oh Primus his intake!_

   Knock Out releases Breakdown’s spike with a wet pop to whisper in a voice thick with electric charge and straight up desire. “Feel good?”

   Breakdown shudders and grabs Knock Out’s helm in both hands. He literally cannot talk to the medic when he’s like this. It’s dangerous. No matter how he responds, it’s going to lead to more processor melting interface.

   Every once in a while, the red mech gets on one of these kicks. One of these weird spells where he is just itching to frag. Just…repeatedly, for hours. And most of the time, that is A-OK! But right now Breakdown and Knock Out are kinda in the middle of something. Specifically the middle of their overlapping shift in the medbay.

   Knock Out slips two claws under the lip of Breakdown’s chest armor and pulls him closer with a harsh jerk. Breakdown throws out his hands to catch himself against the desktop, to keep himself from crushing Knock Out with his overly bulky frame. It’s always Breakdown’s job to watch out for possible injuries on days like this. Knock Out’s so far gone that it falls to the blue mech to remind the doc about important things like size differences and overheating and fuel levels. Breakdown sighs when he accidentally knocks over a stack of datapads on the desk. He’d been trying really hard not to make too much of a mess.

   “It’ll feel even better here,” Knock Out promises and drags one of Breakdown’s hands to his interface array as he mouths at Breakdown’s chest.

   Frag. Knock Out’s valve cover is already open and Breakdown’s fingers are slick with lubricant and Breakdown doesn’t even know when that happened.

   He’s tried saying ‘no.’ Really, Breakdown has. They’ve already been sent to the brig twice in as many weeks; once for being late to duty when Starscream, of all mechs, was scheduled for maintance and then again for failing to answer comms when Starscream summoned them for backup during a skirmish with Autobots. Both times because they were…well, fragging. But it is really hard to be strict when he’s got Knock Out writhing against him and dragging Breakdown’s fingers through the hot, wet slit of the medic’s valve.

   Maybe if they overload Knock Out will behave for the rest of their shift. Maybe.

   “Fine,” Breakdown growls when the heels digging insistently into the back of his hips become too much to bear. “You want me to frag you through the desk? Then I’ll frag you through the desk.”

   “Finally!” Knock Out’s laugh turns to a strangled shriek when Breakdown’s spike slides against the outside of his valve. “Yes! Yes!”

   “Primus! You’re gonna blow before I’m even in ya,” Breakdown huffs in affectionate wonder as he slides his spike against Knock Out’s valve one last time and then slips a couple fingers inside to start prepping his partner in earnest.

   “Oh! Ooooh~!” Knock Out shakes and he may be even closer than Breakdown thought. “Then you’d better hurry if you want in on this.”

   Breakdown can only smile at that. Typical Knock Out.

   The medic leans back to prop himself up on elbows as his moans come faster and faster. His heels dig almost painful into Breakdown’s hips and he grinds into Breakdown’s hand with a desperation that makes Breakdown’s own valve ache in distant sympathy. That red helm dips back exposing Knock Out’s white throat and Breakdown wants to take the offering but he can’t unless he literally wants to fold Knock Out in half and crush the smaller mech’s chest with his own. He wants it but he’s on damage duty, fraggit! Instead Breakdown growls at just the thought of how he’s going straight for that white plating when he gets Knock Out back to their room after shift.

   As Knock Out’s moans pitch higher, Breakdown knows they’re not going to make it past the two fingers scissoring Knock Out. Breakdown’s spike twitches in yearning. Maybe he can get Knock Out to finish him with his intake.

   “Breakdown! BREAKDOWN!”

   And Knock Out is gone, gasping like he’s just completed the Indy 500 in record time and his valve clenches on Breakdown’s fingers and transfluid wells up in the bigger mech’s palm. Breakdown groans. It’s so slagging hot to watch the mech lose it and Knock Out is still calling his name though it’s more of a wrecked whisper now. Knock Out’s optics close in bliss as he slumps. Breakdown decides he’s close enough to finish himself off with his own palm still coated in Knock Out’s fluids. Just a few quick jerks and then they can both clean up and get back to duty.

   Breakdown’s hand is halfway to his spike when he hears the medbay doors open.

   For days afterword, Breakdown and Knock Out will argue what SHOULD HAVE BEEN the proper course of action in this situation.

   But with a thoroughly debauched Knock Out cooling on the desktop, it winds up being Breakdown’s call. And given that he has no idea WHAT THE FRAG TO DO; Breakdown panics and grabs Knock Out by the knees, drags the smaller mech right off the counter, and stuffs him gracelessly in the space between Breakdown’s body and Knock Out’s desk. Some part of Knock Out catches on Breakdown’s spike on the way to the floor and the blue mech grunts in pain just as the medbay’s unexpected visitor turns in Breakdown’s direction.

   And by Primus and Unicron combined, it’s Starscream.

   “Commander Starscream!” For the life of him, Breakdown doesn’t know why he’s shouted. Blind panic makes a mech do stupid stuff.

   Starscream shoots Breakdown a vaguely startled look.

   Thank Primus Starscream already thinks Breakdown is just some stupid truck or things would look really suspicious. Yeah...

_Slag! Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Breakdown takes half a second to glance down between himself and the table. Knock Out is alert, his optics wide as he scrunches into a tight ball and slinks back into the space hollowed out for a chair. But slag! The desk panel facing Starscream is solid but it’s about a three feet off the ground and if Starscream so much as glances down, he’ll see Knock Out. Not to mention Breakdown’s spike is still standing at attention and Primus help him if Starscream catches that salute! Luckily he’s still half bent over the desk from shoving Knock Out to the floor and it's just enough to hide his array. And Primus! The transfluid in his palm!

   The blue mech scrambles to hide his filthy hand behind his back and brings his other up to cup his chin and he rests on the elbow so that he winds up leaning onto Knock Out’s desk in a pathetic attempt at looking casual while still hiding his pressurized spike. Frag! If anything he probably looks like he’s poised to flirt with the Air Commander.

   Breakdown scowls to ruin that particular illusion but he’s not sure that helps the situation as a whole because now Starscream is scowling too.

   “What’s the matter with you?” Starscream snaps when the air between them grows incredibly awkward.

   “Well, uh…just a little crick in my backstruck! You know! Tossing around those Autobots takes its toll if you’re not carefull.”

   Starscream’s expression is doubtful but luckily the Air Commander sighs and looks away. “Where is Knock Out?”

   “Where is Knock Out?” Breakdown parrots with a heavy dose of confusion. “I’m not sure.”

   There’s a rustle so soft that Breakdown is certain he heard it only because it came from right under him. He does not look down but he feels two sets of claws gently rest on his thighs.

   _//Don’t worry. I’ll get rid of him.//_ Breakdown sends a private comm to his partner.

   “I think he must have gone out. Probably to the-“ Breakdown’s intake clamps immediately when he feels a long lick on his spike.

   //KNOCK OUT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?//

   //Finishing what I started.// Knock Out’s comm reads nothing but playful.

   //The frag? Not now!//

   “Breakdown!”

   The blue mech flinches at Starscream’s annoyed growl.

   “Do you know where he is or not?”

   Knock Out slides Breakdown’s entire spike into his mouth and sends his partner a cheeky comm. //Here I am.//

   At a particularly forceful suck, Breakdown’s knees buckle and he collapses a little against the desk, mouth gaping.

   //Knock Out!//

   //Yes?//

   “Breakdown! What is the matter with you? Stand to attention.”

   Breakdown gasps again as Knock Out sucks hard and runs one claw around the cover on Breakdown’s valve. Oh frag! That thing is sensitive and Knock Out Primus-damned knows it. Which is why Breakdown is particularly horrified when his valve cover slides aside against his better judgement.

   Starscream crosses his arms as he crosses that metaphorical threshold between annoyed and irate. “Are you hiding something? If Knock Out is out racing again, so help me, I’ll have him digging for energon with his own claws for the next-“

   One of those very claws slips deep into Breakdown’s valve and the mech is no longer hearing a word of the Air Commander’s tirade. Then Knock Out’s tongue slips in beside his claw and-

   “STOP!” Breakdown shouts hoarsely. “Stop!”

   //Me?// Knock Out asks demurely over the comm.

   //Yes!//

   Belatedly, Breakdown realizes Starscream has stopped as well. He totally missed the part where the seeker starting walking over to the desk but it’s a good thing Breakdown had his outburst when he did because one more step and the med berth conveniently located between Starscream and the entwined medic and assistant is the only thing blocking the Air Commander’s view of Knock Out’s crouched form beneath the desk.

   //Oh, we’re fragged, Knock Out. Fragged, fragged, fragged!//

   //I’ll show you fragged.//

   Knock Out laves at the outer folds of Breakdown’s valve while those deadly claws flex and scrape inside just right and Breakdown is shaking. He’s actually going to overload like this. He can hear the lewd slurping as Knock Out chases the lubricant slicking his valve. Pit take him! Pit take Knock Out and whatever devious part of the red mech’s processor thinks it’s a good idea to make a feast of Breakdown’s valve when Starscream is RIGHT THERE! Knock Out sucks on his anterior node and Breakdown shouts, very nearly bucking up and ruining what little cover they have. Primus, have Knock Out’s head fins always been that tall? He shoves his partner’s head a little lower behind the desk none too gently.

   Starscream snarls and clicks his long claws at Breakdown. “What in Unicron’s name-“

   “Urgh! Don’t come any closer!” Breakdown warns thinking faster than he’s ever thought in his existence. “Stay…stay back. I’m SICK. I…AH!...I think it’s CONTAGIOUS!”

   Breakdown has to stop a moment and bite down on his own fist when Knock Out adds another finger (how many is that even?) and speeds up until he is practically pummeling Breakdown’s valve. To Starscream, Breakdown with his shaking shoulders and pitiful groans and condensation beading on his frame must look like a poster bot for some horrific interstellar disease.

   “Frag!” Starscream mutters in revulsion. “You really are sick.”

   //Don’t worry,// Knock Out’s comm invades the haze of Breakdown’s processor, //I’m a doctor.//

   Knock Out pulls gently on the lip of Breakdown’s valve with one hand while the other is working the sensors inside and then he just barely scrapes his dentae against Breakdown’s anterior node and the blue mech roars as a spark shaking overload rips through him.

   “I’m going to find Knock Out!” Starscream shrieks as he flinches away and runs for the exit. “Don’t you dare leave this room!”

   It takes a good moment of Breakdown just keening into the scratched surface of Knock Out’s desk before he can even process the fact that Starscream is gone. Fluid slicked claws push his hips back firmly and Knock Out slithers his way up from the floor being sure to brush his frame against Breakdown’s the entire time. Breakdown whines, oversensitized and totally wrecked even though he makes it a point to grip Knock Out’s aft in a nonverbal sign of appreciation.

   “The frag, Knock Out?” Breakdown finally gasps as he takes a staggering step back to give his little partner some room. Breakdown’s valve fluid trails down Knock Out’s chin and there’s more coating his helm, some of it Breakdown realizes is the stuff from his hand when he pushed Knock Out down-Knock Out’s own valve fluid, and there’s even more of it painting Knock Out’s helm crest and the tires on his back. Then Breakdown realizes that is the fluid from his spike and he’s actually had a double spike/valve overload without even really noticing. They are such a mess. “FRAG!”

   Knock Out’s laugh bounces around the empty medbay. “Look at you! Never knew you were one of those, a filthy exhibitionist!”

   But there’s absolutely no malice in Knock Out’s declaration. If anything, he sounds far too pleased. Breakdown’s too tired to point out that their impromptu audience made no difference. The world could have been ending around them and Breakdown still would have fallen apart under Knock Out’s digits and glossa. If anyone's an exhibitionist it was the crazy fragger under the desk. Breakdown does manage to dredge up a little indignant anger over the whole potentially disastrous incident but he loses it just as quickly when Knock Out abruptly plants his red aft on the desk and shuffles back with a wicked glint in his optic.

   “Now,” Knock Out purrs, “there’s just one more thing to take care of.”

   The red mech leans back so Breakdown can get the full view of Knock Out’s straining spike and Breakdown groans. He can’t possibly go another round. Except he catches a glint of transfluid on Knock Out’s white neck and he feels his own spike twitch thoughtfully. Oh, Primus, this is a terrible idea. But he leans in to lap at the smear of pink on Knock Out’s neck anyway.

   Knock Out sighs in appreciation as Breakdown methodically begins to lick red and white plating clean. “Mmmm. We should probably make this quick before Starscream comes back to-“

   “WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE UNICRON ARE YOU DOING?!?”

   Knock Out is parked on his desk, back arched, legs splayed wide with his assistant between them. Breakdown is frozen with his fingers wedged into Knock Out's rims and his glossa halfway up its cleansing lick of Knock Out’s main helmfin. Starscream's question must be rhetorical because it's damn obvious what they're doing. The blue mech slowly withdraws his glossa and wets his intake. “Knock Out, I think we’re getting some more brig time.”

   “Yeah…” Knock Out twists slowly to take in the seeker shaking in the doorway flushed from wing to pede, delicate claws balled in rage. “Yup, lots of brig time.”

  

**Author's Note:**

> [Show your support with Ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/foxficandink)


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